July 14, Ketchikan to near Caamano Point

Getting ready to roll!

I am, as readers no doubt know or have gathered, a social person. I enjoy the company of others and don't always do very well alone, so was a little worried about how my attitude would be during the (few, relatively brief) solo stretches of my trip. All in all, I've held up better than expected. My first week was a grind--tiring and at times scary--but I can't say I was especially lonely. Basically, just beginning-trip wear and tear on my body. And my solo week from Prince Rupert was really quite lovely, though I certainly missed the excellent companionship of the inimitable Carl Salk. But by and large, I enjoyed being alone with my thoughts and setting my own pace.



Even so, it was such a wonderful treat to finally meet up with my beautiful wife Emily on the 14th, after having been apart for about two months. She arrived at 3:30 in the morning on the M/V Matanuska, one of Alaska's larger ferries. Initially, my plan was to meet her at the ferry terminal to help her carry her kayak off, then take a taxi back to the hotel, where we would launch, but oddly, I was unable to find a taxi company that would carry us and the kayak. In the end, I wound up renting a car briefly to get the job done--a little hit to the wallet, but not too bad.

After the very early arrival, we both were happy to get a short nap, then eat the hotel breakfast. This, followed by a late checkout and an early afternoon launch. Very early on, we spotted a pod of whales, maybe a dozen. More than I had seen through the whole trip so far!

One of us is looking pretty fuzzy!

Emily is a somewhat slower paddler than me, an I wasn't sure how she would feel after a wild ferry adventure of her own. The answer, as it turns out, was "seasick." But I figured we would aim for a possible campsite at Point Higgins, at the Northern end of our passage up Revillagigedo Island, and cross over Behm Canal if the conditions were right and if we felt up to it.

Despite the late start, we made it to Point Higgins for an early dinner--breakfast burritos for us--which we enjoyed in the sun. This area really should make a lovely kayak campsite, through it is bordered by private land on homes several hundred yards away on both sides. There is a creek for water, and good beach and upland tentsites. The landing is very good. Though campers might have to share their Alaskan paradise with the occasional jogger and dog walker.

Although Emily was tired by this point, the water in Behm Canal looked very calm, and we finished our dinner around seven, giving us a few hours to do the crossing. She was a little ambivalent, but ultimately decided that we should go for it, no doubt after my first-class bullshit artistry kicked in, trying to convince her that (as I thought) a crossing that evening was the safest and most sensible choice. The crossing took us a bit longer than I expected, and Emily was a bit uncomfortable so far from land, but we were able to watch a first class sunset on the way, and arrived at a good campsite on an island Southeast of Caamano Point with enough time to set up camp and set a bear bag (necessary our first night or two).

The campsite itself was above a narrow gravel beach tucked into the rocky shore on the island Southeast of Caamano Point. The landing is a bit rocky, with kelp, at very low tides. No water there, but very comfortable upland tentsites. The lights of Ketchikan were visible across the canal, but we were already out of cell coverage.

Very, very good to be with Emily!

July 12-13, Cone Point to Ketchikan

Quite an eventful day!

After my long, high-mileage day on the 11th, had a bit of a slow morning, with a late breakfast and departure. While eating my morning cream of wheat, watched a big Brown Bear amble out on to the beach a few dozen feet from me. Beautiful! And not a little scary. Just about the best possible kind of bear encounter, though. I got a good look, shouted "Hey Bear," and she was gone.

Later, in hearing about it, Emily worriedly suggested that maybe I should be listening to music or podcasts in camp in order to make more noise and warn any nearby bears of my presence. I told her that at that moment, I was listening to Slate's "The Gist." Her reply was something along the lines of, "Well, Mike Pesca is probably the best thing I can think of to keep the bears away," although we both wondered if the Trumpcast or Political Gabfest might be more frightening to ursine neighbors.

I miss that paddle

An hour or two later, I was on the water, making good progress towards Ketchikan. I wasn't due to meet Emily until the 14th, so didn't really have any reason to be in town until the 13th at the earliest. However, I had made such good time the previous days, and was being carried along so quickly by the wind and tides that an early arrival was possible, which I figured would give me a little extra time to do things like laundry, and would give me a chance to visit the post office to ship now-unnecessary charts home.

The only hitch was that I would need to clear customs immediately upon landing in Ketchikan, and the customs post closed at six, which would make my afternoon paddle a little bit of a race. I had called the US customs post in Ketchikan from Prince Rupert, and they assured me that they could clear me at any time, but it sounded as if it would be a bit of a pain in the rear if I arrived after they had closed for the day. I was undecided, and so pulled out briefly on the Northern end of Annette Island, where I figured I would get cell reception, and called Emily to ask her advice.

Emily thought I should go for it, and agreed to make me a reservation for that night. Great! Although I did manage to drop my phone in shallow water during the call. Thankfully, I have a more-or-less waterproof case, and the phone came out all right.

Then, after I had decided to race into downtown Ketchikan, as I was pushing off, I broke my Greenland paddle on one end of the loom. Curses! I started the trip a little ambivalent about that paddle, but by this time, it had become my favorite. I miss that thing! Thoughts immediately ran to how quickly I could build a new one once the trip was over, and how I would improve on the first. A shame that it snapped, but a successful experiment, to be sure!

In the end, I made it to the Ketchikan harbor by creek street with time to spare, and my customs clearance was hilariously informal. Mostly consisted of me telling stories about my trip to a mildly incredulous customs agent. The only formality was a brief showing of the passport.

As I was paddling through the harbor, received an offer from the kayaking guide firm located near the harbor entrance to store my kayak on their float while I was in town--no doubt a secure place. And they recommended the youth hostel, several blocks uphill, as a place to stay. But I already had my reservation, and a few more miles to paddle, on glassy-calm waters, with very little vessel traffic. Though at one point I was a little concerned that I was about to be run down by an incoming DeHavilland Otter.

Made it to the lodging by half past eight, and checked in. Comfort food at the restaurant, comfortable room and a good night's sleep! Then laundry, the post office, and some fast food the next day. A good early stop.

July 11, DeLong Islands to Cone Point

One of my less comfortable days, at least for a couple of hours.  

After a very nice night in the DeLong Islands, got a mid-morning start, first with very little wind, then with a bit of a Southerly tailwind.  

Very smoothly made the first couple of miles, past Kah Shakes Cove and Boca de Quadra.  As I approached the big-ish crossing of Behm Canal (or rather, the first crossing), rain started to fall on and off, and some foggy patches that had been off in the distance started to move in.  One strategy might have been to work my way a few miles up Behm Canal to a place where the crossing to Revillagigedo Island was a little shorter, but I felt like I had a pretty good compass read on where I was heading, and conditions were very good; I decided to go for it and make the crossing, starting just North of Black Island.  For those of you not carefully following along with a nautical chart in hand, this means that my crossing was probably something in the order of five nautical miles--not the biggest one I've done, by any means, but no trivial distance, either.

In general, the crossing went fine, but as I progressed towards Revilla, the Southerly wind started to pick up, really moving me along at a pretty good pace, and at the same time, the fog started shifting in, blocking my view of Point Alava, my target.  As I worked my way across, the wind waves coming up the channel got bigger and bigger--at times probably approaching five feet, well over my head, and as I neared the shore, I started to feel the effects of waves reflecting and refracting off the shore, which is quite rocky through that stretch.  These were no Cape Caution swells, but these steep wind waves were tiring!

Pulling out in the DeLong Islands

By the time I was within striking distance of land, I was starting to get a little nervous, was definitely in need of a break, and wind waves were starting to break around me as they met and interacted with waves bouncing back off the shore.  Trouble was, the shoreline was too rocky to land under those conditions, and because of the wind and fog, I wasn't exactly sure where I was along the Revillagigedo shoreline.  I rounded several rocky points, each time hoping for a gravel or sandy beach to pull out on around the other side, but each time, no luck.

Several hours after I started my crossing, I found myself in a location where I thought I might be able to squeeze between a sheer headland and a rocky islet to get into what appeared to be more protected waters beyond, but by this time, the number of whitecaps made it difficult to tell if the passage was safe or would be lined with kayak-wrecking, shallowly submerged rocks.  By this time, I was getting a little desperate for a stop and a pee.  After a minute of watching, I decided that I could make it, and shot my way through into clearer waters.  And not a moment too soon!  The dropping tide was about to uncover a sandbar that would have very shortly made it difficult for me to get through.

After a moment with the chart and the GPS, I confirmed that I was in Lucky Cove.  Lucky for me!  The cove was well protected from the Southeast, and very calm.  It also had a creek where I could find water and several excellent campsites.  I considered stopping for the night, but despite my jangly nerves, it was still relatively early and I could pack in a few more miles before finishing fairly easily.  I filtered several liters of water, and looked out at Revillagigedo Channel, wondering if things looked a little calmer out there, and examined some bear scat, wondering whether that suggested that I should be moving on.  

Ultimately, I decided that I should paddle out towards the Western end of the cove and out into the channel to see if it was more practicable.  If not, I could turn around and come back, or stop at another campsite, should a good one appear along the way.  When I got out into the channel, however, things were much better, and I was able to progress several miles further without much trouble, to a known campsite near Cone Point, just East of Thorne Arm.  The site is a peninsula except at very high tides, when it becomes an island, and has a lovely gravel landing beach and level, soft tent sites.  It also has a number of culturally modified trees, which always make me feel like I'm in a very old place.  

By this time, it was quite late, and I made dinner in the dark.  There was also a little bear sign in the site--none very recent--but I made sure I was well armed with my various anti-bear implements, and turned in for a very restful night of sleep.

July 10, Sitklan Island to the Delong Islands

My first full day paddling in Alaska was really lovely--one of my best so far--though that may be my pro-Alaska bias showing. Got a relatively early start and headed out around Garnet Point, at the Southern tip of Kananganut Island. From there on, I passed gillnetter after gillnetter, one after the other, often no more than a few hundred yards apart, as I worked my way up Revillagigedo Channel.

Kitchen on the beach in the DeLong Islands

I crossed Nakat Bay from Garnet Point across to Cape Fox, stopping briefly for a snack and some coffee in the Lord Islands. There, I pulled out on a beautiful clamshell beach, disturbing some nearby seals in the process. I was a little embarrassed to drive them off the beach, but as I glided into shore, I could see smaller seals--presumably, curious teenagers--swimming towards my kayak underwater, visible against the white beach sand underwater. I sat for several minutes, watching them swim towards me, then turn around and swim back to the safety of some nearby rocks. Eventually, a few were brave enough to swim directly under the kayak, no more than a few feet away. Cool! Better than watching them at the Seattle Aquarium!

After finishing the crossing at Cape Fox, I paddled up the mainland shore for several hours, enjoying beautiful paddling weather (that is, overcast and calm) and a favorable tide. Stopped briefly near the Tree Point light, with several old structures in evidence from when the lighthouse was still staffed. It appeared to me that it might be possible to enter the lighthouse on the ground floor and even maybe camp inside, though I didn't investigate any more closely than a long glance from my kayak.

That afternoon, made good progress, and ultimately decided to call it a day in the DeLong Islands, where I had a record of a known campsite. Was able to find another pretty clamshell beach, complete with a driftwood shelter built by an earlier kayaker. Rain was in the forecast, so I set my tarp over the driftwood shelter for a more comfortable evening and breakfast in the morning. There was also a very comfortable upland site just behind the beach. Certainly one of my best campsites of the trip.

July 9: Alaska, at last!

On the 9th, experienced excellent paddling conditions and was able to make it just over the border into Alaska, to spend the night on Sitklan Island, in a pretty cove with a good view of Dundas Island and Dixon Entrance.

The whole area North of Prince Rupert is really quite beautiful. Though I know it could be really dangerous under the wrong conditions, it has long, beautiful beaches in many places, and the open horizon gives it a feel much different from most of the rest of the inside passage. I would gladly go back and spend more time.

Looking a little tropical in Alaska!

My crossing of Portland Canal went without incident, and I stopped for an early dinner in the Boston Islands, on a pretty clamshell beach. From there, I crossed over into Alaska, feeling a little sappy. Tried to remember the words to the Alaska Flag Song as I crossed the border.

Lots of fishing vessels in between Sitklan Island and Kananganut island when I pulled in for the night; appeared to be a gillnet opener going on.

The campsite I found was suitable, given the tides, but the landing was very rocky at low (would be better at higher tides) and I couldn't find a good upland site. Likely, there are better places to camp nearby, including (according to Miller's book) a nearby cove on Kananganut. It was late, however, when I pulled in, and I didn't go any further to investigate.

July 8, Out of Prince Rupert

Carl headed out early in the morning for the ferry to Port Hardy--we said our goodbyes the night before, but I was sad to see him gone in the morning. Always a pleasure, Dr. Salk!

Near Metlakatla, BC

Moved without much urgency to clear out of the room, got breakfast and coffee, and loaded up the kayak. At one point, realized I had accidentally thrown out the replacement gaskets for my new paddling jacket, so, embarrassed, had to go back and ask to rummage through the hotel's trash to retrieve them.

Once on the water, made slow progress towards Metlakatla, BC, due to a headwind and a lot of commercial and sport fishing traffic. Had to spend a lot of time dodging boats, which kept me out of a favorable current Westward.

Once out in the open, however, the wind died down and vessel traffic headed further offshore, and I was able to make pretty good time.

Ended the day on a beach to the Southwest of Lax Kwalaams, probably at a location used by Dennis Dwyer on his inside passage through hike. The site was not ideal--beach camping with no easily accessible upland sites that I could find--but kept me mostly warm and dry in what had by then become a steady rain. If the tide had been higher, it would have gotten more complicated.

July 6 and 7, To Prince Rupert

Sadly, my final day paddling with Carl.

The sixth was supposed to be a short day--only about 9 nautical miles-but turned into a bit of a grind due to strong contrary tides and wind. We also spent a fair bit of time worried about incoming cargo traffic; Rupert has several bulk cargo facilities, including a coal facility and a bunch of grain elevators, as well as a container port and a great deal of commercial and sport fishing traffic. Fun to listen to the harbor traffic on the VHF, but a little nerve-wracking, too. Wouldn't be much fun to end the leg in an unpleasant encounter with a bulker.

Sorry to see you go, Dr. Salk!

We made it to the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club by midafternoon. There, we were able to store our kayaks for about ten dollars/day, and store a few things temporarily as we made our way up to Prince Rupert's excellent youth hostel, the Cow Bay Pioneer Guesthouse. We had made a reservation the night before, from Kitson, where I was able to get a cell signal. This was the second time I had stayed at the hostel, the first time also with Carl, two years earlier, after our epic rail journey from Jasper. Certainly more enjoyable to arrive by Kayak. And given our experience with Via Rail Canada, possibly faster as well.

Once in Prince Rupert, we were able to connect up with Skeena Kayaking. Joe, the proprietor, had agreed to hold a package for me, and had expressed some interest in buying Carl's kayak. Ultimately, was able to grab my package and Carl got a fair price for his kayak. We also ate a few meals out, picked up a food box at the post office, and did some grocery shopping, among other errands. Carl also bought a ferry ticket back to Port Hardy, from whence he planned to take a bus back to Sidney. Happy to be in Prince Rupert, but sorry to see an end to a very enjoyable leg of the trip.

July 5, Gunboat Harbor to Kitson Island

Carl's stretch of the trip was rapidly approaching, but there were still adventures in store!

We had to fight an incoming tide on the morning of the 5th, passing to the West of Kennedy island to avoid messiness associated with Skeena River siltation and currents. Once past Kennedy, however, we caught a fast ebb that brought us Northward towards the Kitson Island recreation site, where we planned to camp. We covered a lot of mileage, and made it to Kitson after traversing some current-related turbulence North of Kennedy.

We were a little apprehensive as we approached Kitson; we could see several boats anchored off the beach of the South side of the island and we could hear loud music. We were met at the waterline by a beach-goer who told us that everyone else would be leaving except her and her family, presumably to allay any fears about noisy parties and the like. Probably a legitimate concern. As we unloaded our boats, a friendly but dazed young gentleman asked me if we had "paddled all the way around the island?" Presumably, he meant Kitson, which is no more than a few acres in size. I grumpily informed him that we had come about twenty miles that day, from the Gibson group.

After the afternoon party crowd had left, we had another visit from the family camping on the island, with an offer to share their fire. Ultimately, we wound up declining, as we were just starting to cook dinner and they were soon to bed. Just before our own bed time, we received another visit from a young couple out for an evening boat ride from town. Lots of questions about our trip, and a pleasant conversation, though it was a bit of a shock to run into so many people after several days with little conversation other than our own.

July 4, Klewnuggit Inlet to Gunboat Harbor

Klewnuggit Inlet

Carl and I debated whether we would be within sight of the United States by the 4th of July--he thought it unlikely while I thought it possible. As it turns out, he was right (as usual). We made good progress on the 4th, making it out of Grenville Channel, and finding a campsite in the evening on Bloxam Island, in the Gibson Group, at a place called Gunboat Harbor. There, we found another nice beach campsite, but even if higher peaks in the coastal range inside the US might have been visible (unlikely), we couldn't see them because of overcast and fog.

That night, however, we were within sight of the very small community of Oona River, and close enough to Prince Rupert that I tried my cell phone (unsuccessfully) to see if we had reception. I was happy to be out of Grenville Channel (afraid of getting trapped by contrary winds) but had found the channel quite pretty; enjoyed the passage.

July 3, Grenville Channel Entrance to Klewnuggit Inlet

Looking up Grenville Channel

Another good mileage day with no real wind to speak of and favorable tides later on in the day.

Made good progress through very pretty Grenville Channel, seeing lots of Seiners, both Canadian and American, bound for Alaska. Made me feel more at home.

Made camp for the night at a known campsite just outside of Klewnuggit Inlet, more than halfway up Grenville Channel. Hoped to find upland sites (for softer ground and less worry about tides) but the only tent sites we could find were on the beach, though high enough to be well out of the way of the neaps we were experiencing.

Made one of our only fires of the trip (the only other one so far had been just north of Namu) in order to dispose of some trash, which was piling up by this time.

July 2, Kingcome Point to Grenville Channel

For the first time in several days, we faced contrary winds on the morning of the 2nd, making the crossing to Gribbell. Off the Southwestern-most point of Gribbell, though, we were able to turn slightly Northward, and the winds began to move from a more Southeasterly direction, probably due to the geography of the surrounding passages. For the next hour or two, we got a nice push from a tailwind, crossing to Gil Island.

We stopped on Gil for a break, which has nice beaches that would be good for camping, at least at neaps.

From there, we crossed over to the Eastern most reach of Pitt Island, just before the entrance to Grenville channel. Although Carl described these crossings as "tedious," I found them more enjoyable--the scenery is pretty (though admittedly it didn't change much all day) and I often enjoy the dynamism of the water.

Ultimately, passed by a known campsite on the Northern side of the entrance to Grenville channel and worked our way inside, where we found good beaches for camping at several points in the first several miles. We selected a likely location in the evening and set up the tent and tarp--we had gotten rain on and off all day and it seemed likely to continue.

July 1, Butedale to Kingcome Point

On the first, our increasingly ridiculous luck held, as overcast conditions kept the inflow winds at bay and allowed us to make our way out of Princess Royal Channel.

By this time, Emily had caught on to the fact that around 85% of my daily mental energy was being spent thinking about winds, tides, and currents. I suspect that this cognitive focus is coming through on these daily logs.

Carl and I both favored a shorter day; we were tired! But also felt that we should take advantage of the conditions we received to the extent possible.

A somewhat later start and an earlier stop than the prior several days put us just West of Kingcome Point, on the Northern end of Princess Royal Island. The landscape there was striking--the first time since Desolation Sound that I felt like we were in someplace that rivaled the beauty of Northern Southeast Alaska. Dramatic cliffs and high peaks, as well as the relatively open water of Wright sound to the West. It may have helped that the setting felt somewhat mysterious, with the peaks surrounding us drifting in and out of the fog.

We camped on a flat, mossy table over a cobble beach. Beautiful site, and a great end to a good day, topped off by whale sightings as we made camp.

June 30, Sarah Island to Butedale

For a third day, our unbelievable weather luck held. After a calm morning with favorable tides, the wind picked up from the South--this appeared to be a typical inflow pattern. We were able to make very good progress again, paddling all the way the the abandoned cannery at Butedale.

Well, not completely abandoned. We had a nice time chatting with the caretaker, who offered to rent us a room with wifi and running water. We opted to camp on the Butedale helipad instead, but he very kindly joined us for a fire before we turned in.

We were concerned that the inflow winds would continue the following day, but past Butedale, they would blow from the Northwest, making progress hard. But the weather forecast was for rain! With a low pressure ridge over the area, inflow winds would be unlikely, so we held our breath and didn't set an alarm, worn out after the previous several very productive but long days of paddling.

June 29, Jackson Passage to Sarah Island

Another day with favorable tides and winds. We caught the ebb through Jackson Passage to Finlayson Channel, where the tide soon turned and we caught an increasingly strong Southerly wind north. Passed by several possible campsites, as we felt like we should take advantage of the very favorable conditions while they lasted.

In the late afternoon, the wind died and we started to experience the turn of the tide well after we had passed Ohio Bay, our final known campsite for the day. We hoped to find a beach campsite, but couldn't find a spot that looked very comfortable, even after several stops in likely looking coves and peninsulas.

Feeling pretty desperate after an hour or two of campsite search, we approached the Northern end of Sarah island, determined to stop, but with only a single known campsite--several miles out of the way down Tolmie Channel--within striking distance. While Carl checked out a possible site near the very Northern end of Sarah Island, I worked my way down the West side of the island for a few hundred yards, and found a nice beach with some potential. As a bonus, the strong Southerly we had experienced earlier had backed to the West and was now blowing strongly towards our newfound campsite, keeping the black flies at bay! This would not be a site that would work at spring tides, by under the circumstances, it was about the perfect location for us. Carl managed to engineer a great tent site by moving some driftwood and raking some gravel into a flat pad.


I don't remember what we cooked for dinner that night, but I do remember watching a beautiful sunset. Because the day had been so successful, I only can imagine that we finished it off by making breakfast burritos, my favorite camp meal.

June 28, Denniston Point to Jackson Passage

Another mostly uneventful day with good mileage. Left Denniston Point on an ebb tide an got a good push, with little resistance from winds. Caught the flood as we turned the corner to work our way through a narrow series of passages into Mathieson Channel and rode the flood most of the way to the East entrance to Jackson Passage. Carl especially really enjoyed paddling through narrow, shallow passages hard to transit in other kinds of vessels.

Found a nice campsite with an upland tent site and a nice beach landing. Had some neighbors as the cove at the East end of Jackson Passage is also a popular anchorage for motor and sail vessels. Thought about continuing further, but we were unsure of finding further campsites for several miles, so decided to call it around six.

June 27, Shearwater to Denniston Point

Had a good breakfast in Shearwater, then headed out around 11. Packing kayaks from a float always takes a long time, but we got it done and made good progress into Seaforth Channel. Camped after a dozen miles or so near Denniston Point, a good site with a gravel beach and upland camping.

June 26, Hunter Passage Islet to Shearwater

A short paddle today, just about six nautical miles. Made it to Shearwater for our resupply well before Noon and were able to book a room at the lodge. They also offered camping for free but it was cold and rainy at the moment and we decided it would be worth a chance to dry out. Of course, the rain stopped and the sun came out as soon as we were settled in!

Shearwater is a funny place that seems to be effectively a company town for the fishing lodge which has grown into something more comprehensive. Pretty good restaurant, utilitarian but comfortable rooms, a sizeable boatyard, well stocked marine store, grocery store, post office, coffee shop, and probably a few things I'm forgetting. It works! A very comfortable and efficient stop for me and Carl.

We moored our kayaks in the marina, and were able to pick up our food package and do our grocery shopping. They mostly had what we wanted, though the selection was limited and everything was very expensive.

June 25, Namu Islets to Hunter Passage Islet

Generally a pretty uneventful paddle today. Made the crossing to Hunter island without any trouble, and made good progress except for a bit before Hunter Passage when we ran into contrary winds.

Tides were high, and we had a bit of trouble finding a campsite. We hoped to camp at a known site a few miles South of Bella Bella but could only find beach sites, with too much salal for a forest site. Found two small islets in Hunter Channel, however, one with a navigational signal, which had good, flat sites for tents, albeit with a bit of a climb to the flat spots. The issue with the campsite was a very difficult landing and launching spot on a pitched rock on the South side of the islet. Hard to load and unload.

Nevertheless, a very successful stop; we shared the island with a mink and when launching the next morning had an up close and personal view of many urchins exposed by the dropping tide. Plus, we had cell reception from Bella Bella and I was able to call home!

June 24, Addenbrooke to North of Namu

Our weather luck held for another day, otherwise mostly uneventful. Winds were calm or favorable, and we were able to again make good time. Towards the end of the day, we stopped in briefly at Namu, the now deserted former cannery town. The location had been described as "a dump" to us by others, but since we were in the neighborhood...

In the end, I think we agreed, though it's always interesting to see these remnants of a past age... I often wonder what now-important places will be viewed as quirky tourist attractions by the odd paddler or RV tourist. The Alaska Pipeline? Juneau? Anchorage? There often seem to be a lot of dreamers trying to come up with a future for places like Namu, but these remote remnants of past resource extraction often simply don't make economic sense as fishing lodges or remote marinas.

We considered staying in or near Namu, but the spray painted "No Trespassing" signs and, probably more importantly, lots of bear sign convinced us to keep moving. Glad we did--Northeast of the ghost town, we camped on a small group of islets Kimantis talks about in his guidebook; a place with beautiful clamshell beaches and at least one slightly hidden and very comfy upland site.

Later on in the trip, I started to think systematically about desirable properties for tent sites. The big three characteristics are: flat, smooth, and soft. A few other potentially important ones may be: clean (as in, no mud or sand), sheltered (from strong winds), exposed (to blow away the bugs), access to water, etc. In any event, this location had a pretty perfect tent location, was essentially bug free, and gave us a beautiful view of the sunset. And a good, close view of one of the relatively few whales of our trip. Win, win, win.

Wish I was better at identifying whales, dolphins and porpoises. Also sea birds.

June 23, Extended Point to near Addenbrooke Island

After the previous two eventful days, with waves and big wind, the 23rd was relatively uneventful. Paddled along some pretty coastline but were in increasingly protected waters, as we moved into Fitzhugh Sound and behind Calvert Island to the West. Towards the end of the day, we misread the chart (actually, I misread the chart--Carl deserves no blame for that one!) and overshot our planned campsite a bit. That evening and for several days before and after, we were somewhat limited in where we could camp; tides were quite high at night, so beach camping was out. However, we were successful in finding a comfortable upland site in a cove East of Addenbrooke Island, after retracing our route by a half mile or so.

On the 23rd, we decided that we weren't going to try to cross Fitzhugh Sound and travel through the Hakai region before making it to Shearwater. Carl had been a little turned off by our intense open water experience around Cape Caution, and I was worried that we were increasingly far behind schedule. Not a crisis by any means, but I was hoping to meet Emily in Ketchikan around July 14, which wouldn't happen if we made too many further detours or took too many low mileage days. In the end, I was a little disappointed that a visit to the apparently beautiful Hakai wasn't in the cards, but a bit relieved, too. It probably turned out for the best, since our straight shot up to Shearwater, then up Princess Royal Channel, rather than Laredo, saved us several days and probably allowed us to get back on schedule. No doubt it helped that we were paddling faster, too! And with Cape Caution, Dixon Entrance, an hopefully the outside of Chichagoff included in the itinerary, I figured I was getting a reasonable helping of outer coast paddling.

June 22, Red Sands Beach to Extended Point

After out brutal previous day, Carl and I decided to take a leisurely morning and sleep in a bit. We were on the water around noon, and very quickly ran into a steady headwind getting out of Smith Sound. By late afternoon, we were at Extended Point, a Kayak Bill campsite that we found to have a beautiful and protected beach and a lovely upland tent site. We attempted to push on several miles further, but progress was so slow that we decided to turn around. Extended Point for the night it was!

We reserved the option of eating dinner, then heading on if the wind died, but it was quite late before there was any perceptible change, so we went no further and spent a lovely evening watching the sunset.

June 21, Cape Caution

By far the most challenging day of the trip, in every way.

Cape Caution is a serious piece of coastline, according to every legitimate observer, from Vancouver on down. Weather predictions were for some wind and 1 to 3 meter swells, which was big for us, but maybe the best we were going to get, and we were pretty sure we could handle it. In the end, we disagreed on how large the actual swells we encountered were--I thought they were significantly larger than 3 meters due to depth effects--but we felt unable to land because of significant surf throughout. The end was a 12 hour continuous paddle without breaks, traveling far away from the coastline, and through the biggest conditions I've ever paddled in. Beautiful coastline, however, and fun (for me) to paddle in those dynamic conditions with swells, wind waves, current and clapotis. Carl didn't enjoy it much, though I was pleased with my relative comfort with those big waves by the end of the day.

We capped off the day with a botched landing in very small breaking waves at Red Sand Beach, several miles Northeast of Cape Caution, which left me with nothing worse than a wet and sandy cockpit. A lovely spot to camp!

June 20, to Skull Cove

The 20th was another day of basically cooperative wind and weather. We finished the crossing to the BC mainland, and camped at a now-defunct whale research camp that has been maintained by BC Parks. The site, in prosaically-named Skull Cove, has several plywood cabins and a picnic shelter that kept us out of the weather, though we weren't rained on. Beautiful views of Queen Charlotte Strait, and a pleasant chat with a fellow in a 15' sailboat heading up the coast, camping in the cove.

June 19, Out of Port Hardy

It rained all night on the 18th--we were happy to be indoors. In the morning, we asked for a late checkout witty the idea that we probably would be able to finish our various and sundry errands in the morning and then get out of the room by one or so. We just barely made it!

A trip to the post office to pick up our food box was successful, and we mailed a few small things back to Juneau. Then, a few additional groceries and we were good to go. Repacked our food, put on our mostly-dry wetsuits, and ostentatiously exited through the same service entrance we entered through, though on a lower tide. Getting the kayaks back down the rip rap behind the hotel was the big adventure of the day.

That afternoon, we made it about a dozen miles, doing most of the crossing of Queen Charlotte Strait. Pretty big water, but broken up into several shorter crossings of a few miles each between a number of island groups. Stayed at a beach campsite in a pretty cove which was mostly covered at high tide--we wound up having to move the tent in a rain shower, getting everything wet in the process. Fortunately, before we turned in. After that, had an uneventful night.

June 18, to Port Hardy

Very strong Southeast winds were predicted for the 18th, growing stronger throughout the day. We had been pushing pretty hard the previous few days, but knew we wanted to get out of the wind and into Port Hardy before things got sketchy on us, so we made an early start, and quickly rode the wind and growing wind waves around Hardy peninsula into Hardy Bay. The night before, Emily had helped us out by getting us the numbers of some Port Hardy hotels; we figured it would be easier and more efficient to stay the night in town, rather than camping out of town in the commercial campground used by most paddlers.

The biggest adventure of the day turned out to be getting our boats out of the water at the hotel... We stayed at a place called the Glen Lyon, named after a local creek. Nice place, located on the shoreline, but without any easy kayak access. The hotel staff very nicely allowed us to use a rear entrance and storage area to get our boats out of the water and our gear up to our room. We were a real novelty for them, which helped a little, no doubt. Took a while, but we were all settled in by Noon.

Since it was Sunday, we weren't able to pick our resupply package up at the post office, but we were able to run a few other (important) errands, including some grocery shopping, a visit to the marine electronics place, which netted us a badly needed replacement for my waterlogged handheld VHF radio, and amazingly, a pair of neoprene gloves at a loca surf shop that was for some reason open on Sunday. We also had a good lunch at the hotel restaurant, and a very nice dinner at a First Nation-run restaurant elsewhere in town. Very good, although running errands was, in some ways, far more exhausting than paddling all day.

June 17, Alder Bay to Islands East of Port Hardy

I've gotten so far behind on these log entries now that I'm having trouble remembering the names of all the places we've stayed. I'll have to go back and update once I have access to all the charts again, at the end of the trip!

On the 17th, we pulled another relatively long day, leaving Alder Bay after an excellent food truck breakfast, and paddling past Port McNeil and along the beautiful beaches stretching from there to the Port Hardy airport, several miles further up the coast. Turns out that we had no need to worry about finding a beach campsite after Alder Bay, although we did have an excellent stay that also saved us substantial time later in Port Hardy.

Tides were in our favor, and we made good time until the very end of the day, when the wind started to pick up from the North, against us.

We spent the night that night on one of several islands to the East of Port Hardy. The pullout was on a pretty clamshell beach in a relatively protected cove, and we found a tent site a hundred feet back on a faint trail, among a group of culturally modified trees. We were also watched by a group of ravens the whole time we were there, which made the place feel very big and old.